Two Days Later
by Phoenixes-And-Wizards
Summary: Andrew Clark and Allison Reynolds. Two different people from two different cliques. When they kissed on the afternoon of their infamous Saturday detention, Allison felt sparks. The question is: Does Andrew feel the same? Too bad she had to find out the hard way. Rated T for some swearing and slight violence later on.
1. Chapter i

**A/N: **Hey, fellow fans of 'The Breakfast Club'! As you've guessed, this is the first fanfic I've posted here, so I'm still learning. Reviewing, commenting, and adding my story to your 'Favorites' will be highly and fully appreciated. So, I guess I'm boring you now. I'll just stop. Er…Enjoy the story!

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own 'The Breakfast Club' and its wonderful plotline. Everything belongs to Mr. John Hughes who, in my opinion, is a legendary director. I'm also not associated with any of the cast members (Judd Nelson, Molly Ringwald, Emilio Estevez, Ally Sheedy, Anthony Michael Hall). But, I wish I was.

**CHAPTER 1:**

Allison woke up with a tingly feeling in her stomach.

She knew it wasn't because she'd had soup with ketchup and mustard in it for dinner last night. After all, she'd eaten worse. No. She was having butterflies because it was _**Monday.  
**_The day she would find out if everything that had happened last Saturday was just a dream.

Still, she knew it wasn't. The pictures she'd drawn the minute she came home were proof enough. Allison closed her eyes and tried to remember everything she, Bender, Claire, Brian, and Andy had done: The fighting. The weed-smoking (even though she didn't take the stick Bender had offered her). The crazy dancing. And, of course, the _kissing_.

Her lips unconsciously curled into a small smile as the memory played back for her in her mind's eye. It had all happened in a blur: She had just said good-bye to him, and vice-versa, when he suddenly leaned in, pulled her closer, and kissed her gently on the mouth.  
Before she was even aware of what she had been doing, she was already kissing him back.

_Andy._

The feel of his toned body against hers, his musky smell, the fingers on his left hand absentmindedly tangling themselves in her thick hair…

"Allison! You're going to be late!" her mom called from downstairs.

She sighed. She knew her little piece of quiet would be broken sooner or later. After all, wasn't that what happened to her all the time? In a way, she _should _be happy that her mother had even bothered to wake her up today. Her dad, who had just gotten a new job, spent every minute he was home locked inside his study. Heck, he barely even knew that he had an almost 18-year-old daughter living under the same roof anymore. To him, she was air. No, it was worse than that. At least he'd notice if there wasn't any air anymore. She was just plain _invisible_.

"Oh, well! At least I'll have _somebody_ to talk to at school," she whispered to herself as she got out of bed. She took a quick shower, changed into her usual 'bag-lady' clothes (as Bender had christened them), and whipped out the little bag that contained all of her daily essentials.

She unceremoniously dumped the contents on the edge of the kitchen sink and grabbed her eyeliner out of the pile. While she worked, her mind kept flashing back to the look on Andy's face when he saw her, fresh from the makeover Claire had just given her.

His eyes had grown as big as stars and his mouth had dropped to the floor, just like Brian's. When she had asked him whether or not her transformation was a good thing or not, he'd smiled like an idiot and bitten his lip, making her blush for the very first time. The memory made her cheeks turn red once more.

"Allison! We're leaving!" her mom called again.

"Wait a minute!" she shouted back as she ran a comb through her unruly hair frantically. Then, after deciding that it wasn't worth it, she threw the comb over her shoulder, grabbed her messenger bag, and dashed downstairs.

"What happened to the look you had last Saturday?" her mother asked as they backed out of the garage. "I couldn't recreate it," she answered simply as she fastened her seatbelt. Her mom was never one for safety precautions and Allison found herself gripping the door handle tighter and tighter as she braked rather hard at inappropriate times. "I thought the Standish girl was the one who did it," her mother said as she beeped the horn at a very slow pedestrian.

Allison just shrugged. This conversation was completely different from the standard one-liners she and Mrs. Reynolds exchanged whenever they were driving to school. She decided she liked it a bit and leaned back in her seat, her stomach churning more than ever as her mom drove closer and closer to Shermer.

When they finally arrived, Allison was a nervous wreck. She stepped out of the car shakily and asked her mother whether she was going to pick her up later.

"I'm working late tonight," Mrs. Reynolds answered flatly, not even bothering to look at her daughter as she pretended to fuss over her seatbelt.

Allison nodded and slammed the car door shut. This was her mom's usual response whenever she had more important things to do. As she walked up the steps of Shermer, her mind raced.

_Would we still be friends? Would Claire and Bender even remember that they'd kissed each other? Would Andy remember that he had kissed _me? _Or will everything just go back to the way it was?_

Unfortunately for Allison, the answers were with the people she half-dreaded, half-wanted to see the most. With a sigh, she opened the door of Shermer and trudged inside. A place that, in her opinion, she'd already seen enough of.


	2. Chapter ii

**CHAPTER 2:**

Allison clutched her books and precious sketchpad to her chest as she wove her way through the crowded hallways. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a couple of freshmen hurrying to get to their next class. She smiled inwardly when she remembered that they'd done that too last Saturday. Only, they weren't running _towards_ class. They were running _away_ from Mr. Vernon _and _their detention.

When she finally reached her locker, the smile vanished. She felt a twinge of disappointment explode in her chest. What had she been expecting anyway? That Claire, Andy, Brian, or even Bender would be standing by it? Waiting for her so that they could walk to class together with their arms linked?

_Yeah_, she thought._ That's exactly what I'd been expecting._

Allison shook her head to clear it and grabbed the padlock of her locker, punching in the combination as she went. She pushed half the amount of books she was carrying inside it, slamming each tome against the rusty metal. She was so distracted that she almost didn't see the little note that had fluttered gently to her feet.

Almost.

She picked it up with a shaky hand and stared at it as if it was the most important piece of paper in the world. But, to Allison, it was. She unfolded it slowly and started to read. It was note from Andy, saying that they wanted to meet her behind the bleachers the minute she'd read it. Heck, he'd even signed it with 'love'.

When she had finished, she put it inside her locker carefully so as not to tear it, and closed it loudly, earning her a couple of rude stares from passersby. She was too lost in her thoughts to notice.

Why on earth would Andy and the others want to meet her behind the bleachers? Sure, she had hung out there a couple of times when she didn't want to attend class. Bender went there to smoke pot. Even Brian hid there to eat his lunch when Andy's friends started harassing him a little too much. Andy, of course, probably went there with a couple of his cheerleader friends to make out whenever they won a game.

(She shuddered at the thought.)

Claire, on the other hand, was a completely different matter. She laughed out loud at the thought of the 'Princess' wrinkling her nose whenever she spotted a used condom lying on the ground. Bender, of course, would taunt her about it and she'd slap him playfully on the arm. She laughed even louder at that.

"Crazy freak," a couple of seniors said, shoving past her with their heads high in the air.

But, she didn't care. They could've said she was a murderer for all she was worth. What mattered to her right now was that her friends wanted to see her.

_Friends._

It felt like a foreign word on her tongue.

Last Friday evening, she wouldn't even have talked to John Bender or Brian Johnson, let alone cast a _single _glance at them. Now, they were two of the people she wanted to see the most.

Funny how things worked out sometimes.

She hitched the strap of her messenger higher and tried to stuff her sketchpad into her already-full bag. When it wouldn't go in no matter how much she tried, she dumped the contents on the floor, not even bothering to see whether they'd trip somebody or not. There, lying amongst the coloring pencils, clothes, crumpled balls of paper, and cans of Sardines she had been carrying around for a week now, was the culprit: Andy's sweater.

He had worn it last Saturday underneath his trademark blue-and-white varsity jacket. When she'd mentioned fleetingly that she was a little cold since the dress Claire had lent her was sleeveless, he'd draped it around her shoulders and insisted she wear it in a manner you wouldn't see in jocks.

"It looks better on you, anyway," he had said while he tightened the strings up for her. Once again, whenever she remembered anything that had to do with Andy, her cheeks turned pink. She stuffed everything back into her bag and, after five minutes of struggling and swearing, managed to fit in her bulky sketchbook as well.

Allison checked her watch. There was still fifteen minutes to kill before she had to be present for Mr. Schumann's boring class. So, what the heck?

As she walked towards the field, she couldn't help but have a tiny feeling of doubt. And, as usual, the thought that gnawed away at her whenever good things happened to her, crept back into her mind.

_What if this is a set-up?_

Her thoughts got the better of her. She went over to a wall and leaned against it, weighing her options carefully.

If she went, she'd get to see them again. Maybe, just maybe, she could also squeeze in a little heart-to-heart talk with Andy about the kiss.  
If she didn't, well….she'd still see them. Only, they'd be pissed at her for ignoring the note.  
Then, she'd have no friends all over again. She wasn't sure she could handle that, now that she knew what it felt like to have even a handful.

Besides, she'd been meaning to ask Andy (if she screwed up enough courage) whether he felt the same.

_Felt the same…_

"That's it!" she suddenly said out loud, earning her a couple of snickers. "That's what's been bugging me. I don't know if he feels the same."

She straightened up and hitched up the strap of her messenger bag with a determined look. "Fuck it, I'm going," she whispered to herself as she blew her hair out of her eyes.

With her face set in a determined mask, she set off for the field, oblivious to the fact that her heart would just get broken and her pride, crushed.

"Hello?" Allison called out as her eyes scanned the field for a sign that her friends were there. "Claire? Bender? Andy? Brian?"

No response.

Allison shivered violently. It was cold out here on the field and her oversized parka, which was supposed to reflect her body heat, was doing nothing to help since she didn't have enough. In a desperate motion to stay warm, she rubbed her gloved hands together and blew on them.

She shoved them into the pockets of her parka afterwards and made a beeline for the bleachers, thinking that it would probably be a lot warmer back there. Allison was in for a nasty shock, though. Instead of seeing her friends' familiar faces, she got an eyeful of Andy _making out _with Taylor Gray. Andy's hands were busy: One in her long tousled hair, the other on the small of her back. Both of their eyes were closed: A sure sign that they were enjoying it.

Allison felt her heart break into two.

The kiss had meant _nothing _to Andy. Who was she? She was no one. Andy had just kissed her back then to make Claire jealous. She'd seen the way the two had flirted last Saturday, anyway. It was obvious that there was a little something between them. The 'thing' between Andy and her, however, was just a spark that never ignited, because there was nothing to make it catch fire.

Her breathing became heavy as she tried to keep her tears from falling. She felt her throat close up, making it impossible to speak. Allison cleared it and waited for the pair to break apart. When they didn't, she coughed louder.

"Allison? What are you doing here?" Andy asked, wiping his lips on the sleeve of his jacket. Allison wondered if he'd done that too the minute she and her mother had driven off that afternoon. Also, she didn't know what to say.

What _did _you say to people who broke your heart?

She looked at Taylor instead. Judging from the sly smirk on her face, Allison knew it was _her_ that had dropped the note into her locker. One of Andy's or Taylor's friends had probably seen them kissing and had told her. But, how did they recognize her, what with the 'black shit' under her eyes and the 'bag-lady' clothes she was wearing gone? Her mind was too frazzled to think rationally.

A small thought occurred to her:

What if Andy _didn't _even know about the note?

Her heart soared again, but fell just as immediately.

If he even had the _smallest_ of feelings for her, why would he kiss this _bitch _back?

Allison shook her head. Her hand flew to her bag, knowing full well what her excuse was going to be. "I was looking for you. Brian told me you were out here with a friend," she lied, casting Taylor a glare. The cheerleader just glared back. "Anyway, I was going to give you this," he continued, pulling the blue sweater that Andy always wore out of her bag. She felt a flicker of glee as the smirk on Taylor's face faltered for a bit as she handed the sweater to Andy.

To her surprise, he pushed the sweater back to her. She felt electricity course through her body when his fingers touched hers slightly. "No, no. You keep it. It looked better on you, anyway," he said seriously, the edges of his lips curving upwards in a little smile. As if he hadn't just broken her heart. Allison all but shoved the piece of clothing into his face.

"Just take it, will you?" she said crossly. "I don't want it."

She _did _want it. It smelled of Andy and she had slept with it under her pillow for the past two days now, along with the patch she'd torn off his varsity jacket.

Andy's expression changed. Allison didn't want to admit it, but he looked a little hurt.

_This is nothing compared to what _I'm _feeling, you jerk_, she thought.

When neither Andy or Taylor replied, she threw the sweater at him, gave him a curt nod, and set off for the school, her body already starting to shake with the sobs she had so skillfully held back.


	3. Chapter iii

**CHAPTER 3:**

"Where have you been? It's a good thing Mr. Schumann's been snoozing away since the period began," Brian whispered in Allison's ear as she sunk down into the empty chair he'd been saving for her. "Don't ask," she whispered back, rummaging for her History textbook in her bag. "Okay," Brian answered, resuming his daily task of taking down whatever riffraff their teachers wrote on the board.

Allison, on the other hand, brought out her favorite charcoal pencil, and began to doodle on the pages. When Brian looked down at what she had drawn, he snickered quietly at the finished product: Napoleon Bonaparte was now riding on a horse that strongly resembled a unicorn. With a tattoo of a hula dancer, no less. Napoleon's face, however, was another matter.

He was now sporting a very curly mustache, a mole on the end of his nose and forehead, and the ugliest pair of buck teeth Brian had ever seen.

"You're a really good artist," Brian said the minute the bell rang for second period. Allison didn't say anything. She just continued packing up her stuff.

Brian's eyes furrowed. For the first time since she took a seat beside him, he looked at her face and immediately registered that her eyes were puffy and red.

"Have you been crying?" he asked, ducking his head so as to get a better look at her eyes.  
"No," she answered a little too hastily.  
"You _have_, haven't you?" he asked again, this time a little more persistent.

As always, whenever somebody asked her question she didn't want to answer, Allison just shrugged.

When she turned around to leave, Brian caught her by the wrist and spun her around.

"Is this about Andy?"

She just stared at him, the rims of her eyes redder than the blush that was slowly forming on her pale cheeks.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Brian offered, his tone gentle and comforting.

Allison shook her head and yanked her hand out of his grip, motioning for him to follow her to their next class.

* * *

There was only one thing Allison and the rest of the student body agreed on: Lunch time was _always _interesting. As a matter of fact, it_ was_. What with the amount of catfights, wrestling and boxing matches, and the occasional nerd getting tripped up happening almost every single day.

For Allison, however, the only thing that was going to be interesting for her this particular Monday, was that somebody was finally going to sit with her: Brian Johnson. So far, only Brian had remembered that they had shared something special last Saturday. As usual, she didn't care. That was the way she liked it, anyway.

"So, would you like me to buy you lunch?" he asked, handing her one of the red plastic trays Shermer supplied them with. "I packed my own, thanks," she replied, pushing the tray away from her and pulling out a crinkly brown paper bag from her messenger bag. Brian smiled. "Let me guess. Pixie Stix and Cap'n Crunch cereal sandwich again?" The corners of Allison's lips pulled up into a tiny grin. "You know me _so _well."

After Brian had finally decided on what to eat (A turkey sandwich and a carton of milk), they started skimming the cafeteria for someplace decent to sit. Allison's stomach dropped when she saw that the only available seats were:

A.) Two tables away from Andy's.  
B.) Right next to Claire's.

"Brian..." she started. Luckily, the former understood. "I know. I know. You don't want to sit there either. But, face it. We don't have much of a choice," he said. Allison saw that he was gripping the tray in his hands so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. So he was just as nervous as she was. And yet, here he was, trying to comfort her.

_He really _is _a good friend_, Allison thought.

"Let's just pick Option A," Brian said, nudging his head in Andy's direction. Allison, knowing that this was the lesser of two evils, sighed and nodded. "Just as long as I can eat lunch in peace." Brian nodded and started to walk towards the table. She, on the other hand, tried to ignore the stares the other cliques were throwing her way. What had happened to the devil-may-care attitude she had put up for so long now? Had it been erased, along with the 'relationship' she thought she and Andy may have had?

Allison shook her head and brought her mindset back to the present. Walking past Andy's table, who, by the way, was currently _flirting _with Taylor Gray, was hard enough. Thinking about said 'relationship' was just plain torture.

As she and Brian made their way towards the table, she felt somebody staring at her.

_Andy._

She looked out of the corners of her eyes to confirm if she was right.

He was.

Taylor was trying to kiss him again, to pull his attention back to her, but he had eyes for Allison only. When he noticed that she was looking at him too, he smiled and raised his eyebrows at her. Oh, what Allison would've given to be able to take Taylor's place and be the one who was holding his hand!

A sudden vision of her and Andy walking together, hand in hand, on campus flashed into her mind. Bender and Claire were there too. They were holding hands as well. Brian, on the other hand, was arm in arm with a pretty girl he'd probably had a crush on since the beginning of forever. Nobody was jeering or cat-calling; they were doing the opposite: cheering for them.

_CRASH!_

Because Allison was so wrapped up in her little dream world, she didn't notice Jeremy Nolan's foot sticking out, waiting for her to step on it. She fell to the floor, face-first, her lunch bag splitting open at the bottom from being slammed so hard on the floor. Her messenger bag, on the other hand, was okay. From all around her, she could hear people laughing and cracking jokes at her expense.

"What's the matter, weirdo? Thought the floor was a little more tasty than your lunch?"

"Where's the rush, freak? Eager to kiss the floor again?"

"How'd you like the taste of floor, crackpot?"

"CAN EVERYBODY JUST SHUT THE _FUCK _UP?"

Allison looked up and saw Brian standing over her. He was the who had screamed at their classmates. He was looking pale (Probably from screaming so loudly), his knuckles taut and white from gripping the tray so tightly. Right then and there, Allison felt a rush of affection towards Brian for standing up for her. "You got a problem with it, nerd?" Jeremy asked, standing up and curling his fists threateningly.

If it was even possible, Brian turned even whiter.

"I said, do you have a problem with it?" he asked again, shoving Brian backwards, making him drop the tray and splattering Allison with milk from his half-opened milk carton. The people around her laughed harder. Brian looked helplessly at her and she, at him. Allison felt anger flare up inside her. Why wasn't Andy doing anything? These were his real 'friends', right? Then again, if these dickheads _were _his friends, he wouldn't dream of challenging them. After all, he was only a follower. Popular, but a follower.

She stood up, slowly, and stared at Andy, her fists clenched. His cheeks turned red under the intensity of her gaze, but she didn't care. The words were already spilling out of her mouth:

"WHY AREN'T YOU DOING ANYTHING? Oh, yeah, right! That's because you're a follower. You do nothing all day, but to follow other people's bullshit. Or, worse, watch them make other people feel like shit and do nothing about it. I mean, if these are the people you call your friends, then excuse me for saying that The Breakfast Club will _always _be better than them, you fucking son of a bitch."

By then, Andy was standing up as well, his cheeks flushed more than ever. His fists were rolled into balls as well. They were shaking. "Look, I don't give a shit about what you say, Allison. What are you so mad about, anyway? The fact that I didn't call you on Sunday or that you caught me and Tay kissing behind the bleachers? Are you jealous? God, you are so pathetic! Did you honestly believe that we'd start a relationship, come Monday? Well, good news! You were wrong. So _fucking _wrong. Because I would never be caught with you. Understood?"

Tears streamed down Allison's face, but she hurriedly wiped them away, not caring if her mascara smudged or not.

"You're a prick, you know that? A _fucking_, miserable prick who does nothing but follow. If you want to forget Saturday, fine. Go ahead. I don't care. None of us cares."

She picked up her bag and Brian's half-open carton, threw the remainder in Jeremy's, Andy's, and Taylor's faces, and walked out of the cafeteria, the jeers of her schoolmates ringing in her ears.


End file.
